


Getting the Lines Wrong (Or Five Times Brett And Danny Failed At Having A Threesome)

by soupytwist



Category: The Persuaders
Genre: First Time, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupytwist/pseuds/soupytwist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think she likes us.”</p><p>“Of course she does, Daniel, we do happen to be very likeable men.”</p><p>Really, that British classical education, what a joke. “No, bright spark, I mean she <em>likes</em>. <em>Us.</em>” He pointed to them both in turn, to make sure even Brett would get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting the Lines Wrong (Or Five Times Brett And Danny Failed At Having A Threesome)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laceymcbain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceymcbain/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, lacey. :)
> 
> Thanks, as always, to the lovely ladies who provided encouragement, squee, and beta: Cat and Jaime, you are delightful and the help was invaluable. So much Yuletide love all round!

1\. If the Judge was going to send them presents like _this_ , Danny thought, he might have to change his mind about him. The girl was a peach, and – even better – Brett had held the elevator so Danny could join them. There was nothing about that that didn't make Danny want to grin from ear to ear.

“So tell us, sweetheart,” he said, bowing her out of the elevator, “what can we do for you?”

“Oh, now you've said that I – oh, you'll think I'm foolish, ” said the girl. “It seems really very silly, nothing really.”

“Nonsense!” said Brett, who apparently had some kind of Gallantry Button that good looking girls could press just by existing. “You simply must tell us all about it.”

The girl looked up under her lashes, eyes going from Brett, to Danny, then back to Brett again. “Well, if you're _sure_...”

Danny was pretty sure he knew what _that_ meant, and suddenly his plans for the evening became a lot more fun. Especially if the little digging he'd managed to do on His Lordship was accurate, which Danny was pretty sure it was. Brett ushered the girl into the room ahead of them, and Danny took the opportunity to hold Brett back for a second and quickly discuss the situation via his favourite trusted and time-honoured method.

Of course, he should have guessed that a crazy Britisher like Brett wouldn't know the time-honoured methods.

“Daniel, what on earth are you doing with your eyebrows? Please do stop it, it looks painful.” Brett stepped closer and prodded one, apparently just to make sure.

“I was _signalling_ ,” said Danny, in as dignified a manner as was possible when your eyebrow had just been poked by a Lord.

Brett looked amused. “Yes, but the question remains: signalling what?”

Danny lowered his voice. “Our friend over there – Alisandra.” He nodded in the direction of the door. “I think she likes us.”

“Of course she does, Daniel, we do happen to be very likeable men.”

Really, that British classical education, what a joke. “No, bright spark, I mean she _likes_. _Us._ ” He pointed to them both in turn, to make sure even Brett would get it.

Miraculously, it seemed like Brett did. “Oh.” His eyes went wide. “And -”

“ _And._ ” Danny nodded encouragingly.

Brett gave his shirt a little brush down like he thought he might have lint on the collar. Or maybe dandruff. Who knew with these Lord types, anyhow. ”Are you certain?”

“Ah, certain, schmertain.” Danny grinned, waved a hand. “It's worth finding out, isn't it, huh?”

“Well.” This time it was Brett's eyebrows going up. “I suppose there is something to be said for that point of view, yes.”

“Thankyou!” Danny patted Brett on the shoulder. “That is exactly what I meant.”

“...you're welcome?” Brett opened the door to the room. “After you.”

Alisandra, however, instead of coyly sitting on the bed as she had been in Danny's head, was waiting for them with a poisoned hypodermic, and things went kaput quicker than Danny could say _fettucini alfredo_. A meeting with that asshole the Judge, _another_ near arrest, three dead cops, and a fight with a trained Labrador later, Danny had given it up as pretty much doomed. He and Brett hadn't exactly had a conversation about it or anything, but it was definitely...awkward. Maybe Brett was just the embarrassed type.

 _Oh well_. He figured that was that chance blown, then, but at least it'd been fun trying.

–

2\. Danny really hadn't expected to see Brett again, unless it was maybe by accident in an airport lounge or something, but the Judge had other ideas. On that score at least Danny couldn't fault him. Nearly getting killed and losing a childhood friend was still a lousy way to spend an afternoon, but it was a hell of a lot easier when you had someone to go drinking with afterwards.

The bar wasn't one they were likely to go to sober, but it had booths with high walls, hostesses with short skirts, and a dancefloor that seemed like a good idea after the five – six - maybe seven drinks they'd already had. It was clearly the best of all possible bars.

“The prince of bars,” said Brett, waving his glass slightly unsteadily.

“The king of bars!” Danny spilt some of his waving back, but was pretty sure he didn't really care.

Brett frowned. “I rather think that might be treason. Don't think the Queen would like it at all.”

Danny finished his drink, got to his feet with only one hand on the table to steady himself, and held the other one out to Brett. “Let it go, kid, the Queen'll do fine. Now don't you want to – oh, hey.”

He waved at Hey, who was curvy and blonde and turned around to reveal nice blue eyes and cleavage out to here.

Hey turned out to actually be called Charlotte - “call me Lottie, do” - and she was a student, out with her friends.

Somewhere along the line they lost the friends, and ended up taking turns kissing Lottie in the taxi on the way back to the hotel. The last thing Danny remembered was the cheerful way she said “Oh, I _do_ like older men” and the look on Brett's face as he poured three more glasses of wine, before the whole thing turned into a fuzzy but distinctly pleasurable blur.

-

The sun woke them in the morning, as they'd forgotten all about closing the curtains. Danny peered at the clock, then rolled back over, threw an arm back over Brett, and closed his eyes.

-

Several hours later, Danny realised with a start that Lottie was nowhere to be seen. He dashed out of the bathroom, toothbrush still sticking out of his mouth, to tell Brett.

Brett, however, had already solved the mystery.

“I think this might shed some light on the matter,” he said, holding up a piece of a paper. “I found it on the dresser. It says -” Brett cleared his throat. “And I quote, 'Dear boys, if you must invite a girl to have some fun, next time please be in a fit state to HAVE some fun and don't leave her to entertain herself.'” Brett coughed. “That part is, ah, heavily underlined. She continues, 'But I don't suppose you'll have a problem entertaining each other. Cheerio, Lottie.'”

The toothbrush, still in Danny's mouth, drooped.

–

3\. Girls as gorgeous as Sid didn't come along every day, even if they _were_ supposed to be focussing on getting Rocco to a court still in a fit state to testify. Danny had never let mobsters dictate his love life before, and he didn't intend to start now. Sid seemed like the perfect girl for a good time, too; on the unruly side, sure, but a whole lot of fun, and she was flirting with both of them in a way that went perfectly with the golden sunshine and beautiful scenery. He wasn't going to _assume_ \- oh boy had he learned his lesson on _that_ one – but he was absolutely going to hope.

Of course, then he left Brett alone with her for ten minutes and she suddenly seemed to have got the idea that neither of them were interested. He should've guessed.

She followed it up by leaving them at the side of the road thirty miles from anywhere. He badgered Brett about it all the way back, but he never did find out what happened.

–

4\. First there had been the whole traumatic thing where Brett was married, and then he wasn't again, and then there had been the bond smugglers turned kidnappers that ended in leaping over fences being chased by a very angry bull, and _then_ Brett's new favourite restauranteur had been found poisoning people. Enough was enough: despite their bad track record, Danny had insisted. They needed a vacation. A ski trip was just what was called for. Snowy peaks, French food, exercise, a hot tub – it was perfect. Danny was particularly looking forward to the hot tub.

When they finally got there, two bank robbers and a mime artist later, the resort was even better than Danny had dared to hope. The chef wasn't – despite lingering secret fear – a murderous psycho, for one thing, and for another..

Danny grinned at the ski instructor, a beautiful, dark-haired piece of work called Arnaude. She shook out her hair and put her goggles up on her head. Danny wondered how she managed to make goggles on the head look somehow elegant, when it just made Brett's hair stick out all over like an aristocratic pineapple.

“Are you ready to make the attempt on slope number four?” she asked.

“Oh, you bet.” Danny patted his skis as proof, and figured he was lucky he'd already given up on trying to stop everything he said to Arnaude sounding like a euphemism.

“Of course. That's because _some_ of us actually know how to ski.” Brett smiled regally, and started in the direction of the lift. “Daniel.”

Danny turned to Arnaude, said, “His Lordship's a little confused; he _meant_ to tell you that I beat him twice yesterday. And three times the day before that. Now, if you'll excuse me,” and ran after Brett.

Of course, then Brett twisted his ankle and the ski-lift attendant turned out to be a mob informant. But Danny preferred to think of it as having nearly a week of real vacation.

–

5\. Florence hadn't grown any less lovely with the years, thankfully. Danny had worried, just a little – it was one those things, he'd meant to come by more often, then guilt said it had to have changed while he wasn't looking. But it hadn't, or not enough to notice.

“Do you always have to walk so fast?” he asked; it wasn't like he was _that_ much slower these days, but Brett had (only _slightly_ ) longer legs and no twinge in his hip, and the courtyard of the Uffizi was longer than he remembered.

“Do you always have to ask that?” retorted Brett. He also, however, slowed down his pace.

The Uffizi entrance staff, to Brett's surprise and Danny's not-so-secret vindication, didn't seem to know anything about the trio of acrobatic art thieves they were looking for. But they did introduce the curator of the collection most likely to get hit next, a tall, gorgeous woman called Maria. Danny kissed her hand; Brett got extra fancy with the titles. It kind of made Danny want to kick him in the shin, in a weirdly nostalgic way.

She laughed kindly at their attempts to show off their Italian, and answered all their questions - even the ones about the maintenance of the bathroom facilities - in perfect English. They went to parts of the palace neither of them had seen before, and when they finally had to leave, Danny thought he couldn't imagine many nicer afternoons. Maria kissed them both multiple times on both cheeks and told them to come back soon.

“She was certainly... friendly,” Brett commented, as they walked back through the deepening shade of the afternoon towards the Palazzo Vecchio.

Danny puffed a little for a moment; it was still pretty warm. “Yeah, she was. And what a looker! Reminds me of the good old days.”

Brett gave him a look. “And you're not disappointed?”

“With what? Getting older?”

Brett raised one eyebrow. “Well, that would be one way of putting it, dear boy.”

Danny took maybe half a second to think about it.

“Nah,” he said, and linked his arm through Brett's.


End file.
